


you might be lost (but I ain't losing you)

by TheMipstaz



Series: There's a Light in the Dark [5]
Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Flashbacks, M/M, Magic, Necromancy, Nymphs & Dryads, Oral Sex, Pixies, Witch!harry, Witches, dryad!Niall, fire away AU, necromancer!Nick, witch!zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-03 18:26:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13346943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMipstaz/pseuds/TheMipstaz
Summary: first of all, i love that "pig grimshaw" is an actual tag. second of all, this was like 10k long. but then it didn't flow so unfortunately i had to cut out some good scenes of lilo parenting Freddie and Bear, so just know that it exists in this verse. As a result, this title made a lot more sense with the extended version, but that's alright.Title from Niall'sFire Awaybecause I'm debating doing one fic per song for that album. May or may not happen. Happy new year, y'all!Reblog onTumblr!





	you might be lost (but I ain't losing you)

**Author's Note:**

> first of all, i love that "pig grimshaw" is an actual tag. second of all, this was like 10k long. but then it didn't flow so unfortunately i had to cut out some good scenes of lilo parenting Freddie and Bear, so just know that it exists in this verse. As a result, this title made a lot more sense with the extended version, but that's alright. 
> 
> Title from Niall's [Fire Away](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_wnNSIISj5c) because I'm debating doing one fic per song for that album. May or may not happen. Happy new year, y'all!
> 
> Reblog on [Tumblr!](http://nevergooutofstiles.tumblr.com/post/169750477035/you-might-be-lost-but-i-aint-losing)

When Zayn wearily climbs into bed, he glares hard at the rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon and slanting through the gap in the curtains. Right into Zayn’s eyes.

Fucking assholes.

Huffing, Zayn buries his face into his pillow and blindly reaches out an arm. Palm tingling, he coaxes the shadows draped across the room to swirl towards his hand. They feel cool against his skin where they wrap eagerly around his fingers. With a flick of his wrist, he bids the coiled energy to tug the drapes closed.

Enveloped in blissful darkness at last, Zayn closes his eyes and pulls the blankets up to his nose. He sighs contentedly, wriggling closer to the center of the bed to wrap a lazy arm around the familiar, waiting waist. The stars dotting his palm hum as the magic dissipates, settling down as day breaks and the moon retreats.

Zayn sleepily leans in to press a brief kiss to a warm shoulder or soft neck, except his bedmate pulls away. The sheets rustle loudly. Harry sits up, dislodging Zayn’s arm.

“Good morning,” Harry chirps, dimple already settled deep into his cheek. He raises his arms in a languid stretch, joints popping. Then he snaps his fingers. The curtains fly open to let sun spill into the room, the light somehow already 10 times stronger than when Zayn last saw it 5 seconds ago. To be fair, Zayn isn’t sure that half the illumination isn’t coming from Harry himself.

Zayn scowls at him. Fucking light witches. All cheery and shit at arse o’clock in the morning. And this is _before_ Harry’s had his coffee.

“S’barely mornin’,” grumbles Zayn, stubbornly reeling Harry back in to snuffle against his hip. “Turn the bloody sun off.”

“Can’t,” Harry grins, starting to roll out of bed as best he can with Zayn doing an admirable octopus impression. “Wouldn’t if I could either, love.”

“Not even for a morning blowjob?” Zayn mumbles, opening one mischievous eye. His hand pets Harry’s bare hip, fingers rubbing at smooth skin.

Harry freezes. “…I could be persuaded.” His aloof tone is somewhat ruined by the way Zayn can already hear his breathing getting heavier. Harry’s laurels rustle in interest, and the mermaid on Harry’s arm winks encouragingly at Zayn.

Slightly more awake, Zayn successfully pulls Harry back onto the mattress. Situating himself between Harry’s legs, Zayn keeps his eyes mostly shut as he drags his lips down Harry’s collarbone to his nipples and further down his sternum. He relishes every soft gasp and quiet moan Harry makes when he sucks a bruise into the space between Harry’s ribs. The sheets swish underneath them as Harry shifts to press his hardening dick into Zayn’s stomach.

Zayn hides a pleased smile into the crease of Harry’s hip, hands tracing the trembling lines of his legs. He drops delicate kisses on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, listens to Harry breathe out a shaky, “Fuck, Zayn.”

When he sees Harry fist the sheets on either side of Zayn’s head, feels Harry’s hips arch up against his palms, Zayn finally kisses the side of his cock and takes it into his mouth. Zayn doesn’t even mind the uncomfortable heat of the morning sun beating on his back as he kicks the blankets off. Nothing can distract him from the heaviness of Harry on his tongue, the lovely flexing of Harry’s stomach as he fights the urge to fuck up into Zayn’s mouth, the way Harry tangles gentle fingers into his hair. Zayn wraps a hand around the bit he can’t fit into his mouth, not for lack of trying, and rests his free hand on Harry’s thigh. He feels Harry’s thigh flex tight and strained when Zayn hollows his cheeks. He loses himself in the rhythmic bobbing of his head, tightening of his throat, twist of his hand.

He knows Harry is close when the moans get higher, louder, like a white hot star about to burst into a supernova. He briefly considers pulling off as revenge for the curtain earlier. But then Zayn finds he’d much rather feel Harry’s hands tighten in his hair and his cock nudge the back of his throat as Zayn makes him come so hard his back arches off the bed.

So he does.

When he leans back, Zayn hungrily drinks in the sight of Harry laid out on the sheets, chest heaving so his butterfly flutters. A slight sheen covers his forehead. His hair splashes out onto the pillow like a halo. His bottom lip looks dark red like he’s been biting it even though that’s not possible because he’s been moaning like a porn star the whole Goddamn time. In other words, he’s the most beautiful thing Zayn has ever seen, and Zayn spends every night painting the cosmos for a living. He’s seen and created hundreds of thousands of stars, flickering specks of light that have been awing humans for centuries. But he has yet to find anything that comes close to Harry Styles.

“Good morning,” Zayn announces, a little stilted after he realizes he’s been staring into Harry’s half-lidded eyes a bit too long for lazy morning sex. Not that Harry minds. Zayn knows he loves that soppy shit.

“It is a good morning, innit?” Harry smirks, pawing back the hair stuck to his cheek.

“Would be better if you ate me out,” Zayn suggests, petting Harry’s thigh.

Harry nods sagely. “That, it would. Come up here then.”

Zayn grins. Sleep is overrated anyways.

* * *

A few hours later, Zayn comes back to his senses and remembers that sleep is, in fact, _not_ overrated. One might even say that it is of the utmost importance. That it makes the world go ‘round.

That someone, however, is not his boyfriend because Harry’s currently ripping the duvet off of the bed and bellowing, “Get up! Niall needs help with a pixie infestation.”

“Good for him,” Zayn grumbles, eyes squeezed shut. He does his best to burrow into the mattress and go back to sleep, sheets be damned. “Now sod off.”

“But what about Niall? He needs us. Those pixies might be eating him as we speak. They might be getting alcohol poisoning from on all the beer in his Irish blood. Pissed pixies, Zayn!”

“Pixies don’t eat humans.”

“That we know of.” Zayn can somehow hear the pout in Harry’s voice even though he can’t see it.

“Ring up Louis. He has experience with little demons, yeah?”

“Jesus, Zayn, fairies and demons aren’t the same,” Harry protests, scandalized. “Didn’t they teach you anything about fae at your fancy moon school. Besides, you love Freddie. He might be a literal demon, but he’s a proper angel.”

At Zayn’s disbelieving snort, Harry rolls his eyes and amends, “Barring the Unicorn Debacle. Would you let it go? Freddie said he was sorry, like, a hundred times. And I’m sure Bear would too if he was out of his silent stage.”

“I will when I stop having nightmares about it. Now go ring Louis. I thought Niall was in a state of emergency.”

“He is! But I can’t. Louis took Liam down to the First Circle to see Dan and the girls. Which reminds me, Briana is on babysitting duty, so trivia night is cancelled.”

Zayn sighs and tries one last ditch effort even though he felt any lingering chance for sleep slip away as soon as he heard Harry thundering into the room. “You’re a witch too, last I checked, Haz. Go deal with the pixies yourself.”

“But you’ve had loads of training. You’re much better at this sort of thing than me,” Harry whinges. “Remember last time when I tried to help Liam with the poltergeist that kept hiding his keys? It still traumatizes me to even think about cheese toasties.”

Zayn sighs longsufferingly because Harry’s got a point. He grudgingly opens one eye, which is his first mistake because Zayn takes one look at Harry’s pleading face, groans, and somehow finds himself rolling out of bed to find trousers.

* * *

“Really appreciate this, mate,” Niall claps Zayn on the shoulder. “Would’ve called an exterminator, but those companies are getting away with murder. Nearly 100 quid just to get ‘em out here to look at the buggers.” He shoots an irritated look at a tiny blue blur that whizzes by screaming bloody murder in fairy tongue.

“Anytime,” Zayn replies, leaning into Niall’s touch. “You know Harry loves seeing the plants.” He gestures to Harry’s blurred outline through the greenhouse window panes. He seems to be squatting and chatting animatedly to a trough of sunflowers, who nod along attentively to his story.

Niall nods. “They love him too, lightworker and all. Have a proper sulk once you lot leave and they realize they’re stuck with me again. Like they forgot I feckin’ planted them seeds. You’d think that’d earn me a bit of respect.”

Zayn huffs out a laugh as the two of them meander closer to the pixie nest on the edge of the property. “Tell me about it. I swear our orchid at home wilts if I get within a 1 meter radius.”

“Stop slandering Mary B. Malik-Styles’ good name!” Harry shouts from the greenhouse.

Niall quirks an eyebrow, mouth twisted in a bitten back guffaw. “You named your flower Mary? Not after Mary Berry from _Bake Off_?”

Zayn scowls and shoves at Niall. “D’you want these pixies gone or not?”

Niall cackles.

Zayn spends the next hour laying honey and goat milk traps and reconsidering his friendship with Niall. The former will lure the scattered winged pests close enough to the nest for him to take them all out in one good shot. The latter will just mean he and Harry won’t get any blackberries come summer, so Zayn figures he can put up with the dryad until then.

Once most of the swarm have descended onto the honeycomb and milk , gnawing feverishly on the sweet treat and slurping noisily, Harry has returned from the greenhouse.

Zayn rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing the dark lines of his tattoos. The ink shifts restlessly on his skin, anticipatory. Zayn squints up at the sky, shading his eyes with one hand. It’s hard to be certain with the sun doing its best to blind him, but he does his best to guess which constellations sit directly above them.

Right. Ursa Major will do just fine.

His mandala twinges in protest, skin tight and magic unwilling to surface in broad daylight after a whole night of work. Zayn sighs, thinks longingly of his bed at home, and flexes his fists.

Beside him, Harry steps up and grasps one of Zayn’s hands. A jolt runs up Zayn’s wrist so hard, he hisses. Their palms meet in a flash of light that catches the attention of even the distracted pixies. Their lips curl in fear to reveal razor sharp teeth, but they’ve realized the danger too late. White hot fire licks up Harry’s arms, dances in his curls, unbridled and wild—the power Zayn lacks himself. Zayn begins moulding and crafting Harry’s sun-bright aura into a deadly point, sheer energy tightened and sharpened like a blade against whetstone. The stars embedded in his skin guide and coax the flares into structure with intent. It’s not as precise as it would be if he were using his own juice, but it’ll do.

By the time the pixies have enough sense to screech and open their wings, Zayn releases the taut energy like a drawn back bowstring. The air vibrates with the snap of the shockwave. Niall stumbles a bit with a curse, arms flung up to shield his face from the flash. Harry grips Zayn’s hand tighter as the bolt of energy violently rips away from Harry to engulf the hoard of pixies. They shriek as the magic dissolves and rearranges their atoms on the Other Side, away from the human world and Niall’s nursery.

The pixies vanish in a blinding blaze of light and ear-rattling screams. Zayn slowly blinks open his eyes and sighs in relief at the bare nest. Half-eaten honeycomb sits innocently on the grass. Turned over bowls of milk trickle into the dirt. The empty nest lays abandoned.

Harry falls to his knees, shaky legs giving out. He breathes hard, like he’s run a marathon, and a bead of sweat slides down his temple.

Zayn feels his own thighs tremble, begging for respite. He runs a hand through his hair, lungs struggling to fill with enough oxygen to ease the dizziness. The hot sun beating down on the back of his neck doesn’t help matters.

Niall whistles. “Holy shit, lads. I know Harry’s been working with Grimmy on this magic stuff, but—Harry!”

Out of the half-collapsed nest streaks a grey blur, dripping bluish blood that sizzles when it hits the grass. The pixie yowls in fury and flings itself towards them, talons extended. Harry’s eyes widen. He raises a hand to defend himself, but only faint sparks scintillate from his quivering palm. He shuts his eyes, waiting for sharp teeth to dig into his skin and tear at his face.

It never comes.

Zayn’s weary body moves before he can consciously direct it to. His own arm shoots out, leading a dozen black shadows to snake lightning-fast over the ground. Zayn’s hand grips thin air even as the dark tendrils mirror his movement trap the thrashing pixie. Zayn tightens his grip, and the shadows constrict and cut into the pixie’s flesh. It wails pitifully, blood dripping onto the ground from its missing arm and ear—results of only partially evading the spell. Zayn watches distantly, almost disinterestedly, as the creature’s struggles weaken.

“Zayn, stop!”

Zayn blinks, Harry’s pleading voice cutting through the haze of—not even anger, but certainty that he needs to eliminate this thing tried to attack Harry. He becomes aware of Harry’s fingers tight around his wrist. Harry’s wide eyes flick between his face and the pixie. Zayn blinks again. His grip slackens slightly as he comes back to himself, and the pixie wriggles free. It shoots Zayn a fearful look before beating a hasty retreat.

“I…” Zayn frowns, trying to comprehend the unexpected surge of violence. His hands shake, and he can’t meet Harry’s eyes. “Thank you.”

Harry beams at him, though it doesn’t quite reach his searching eyes. He pushes sweaty curls away from his face. “Of course. Now let’s see what Niall’s gonna make us for dinner. I’m starved.” Harry reaches for Zayn’s quaking hands, unafraid even in the face of the Zayn’s violent display. Zayn wonders at Harry’s certainty of his goodness and gentleness.

Zayn’s can barely to take a breath because of the fierce ache that threatens to collapse his chest cavity. Sometimes he doesn’t know what he’d do without this wonderful boy who believes in Zayn more than he believes in himself.

“I—yeah.”

* * *

_“Grimmy, open up! I need to call in that favor.”_

_Nick scowls when he opens the door, towel wrapped tightly around his waist. Really, he should’ve just answered the door starkers to dissuade Zayn from making any more late night calls that rudely interrupt Nick’s bubble bath time. “This better be good, Malik,” Nick growls. “And quick. I’ve got Oprah’s newest selkie-oil-infused bubble mix sitting in my tub and getting less foamy by the minute and—oh, who’re you?”_

_Two big doe-eyes under a mess of curls peer out from over Zayn’s shoulder, blinking up at Nick._

_Zayn steps aside and nods encouragingly to, “Harry, this is Nick Grimshaw. The friend I told you about. He’s going to help us. Nick, Harry.”_

_“Am I now?” Nick asks flatly. “At bloody midnight?”_

_Zayn ushers Harry through the door. “Sounds about right.”_

_Nick sighs and shuts the flat door. He studies Harry more closely, watches the wide-eyed fascination as Harry pokes and prods at the trinkets littering Nick’s flat. Harry grins in delight when the jade dragon figurine Bebe Rexha sent him from China snaps its jaws at his finger and blows smoke rings from its nose. His jaw drops when Nick’s skeletal dog pads out from the kitchen to investigate the newcomer, the exposed bones of his paws clicking disjointedly on the hardwood. Almost like, Nick narrows his eyes, Harry’s never seen any of it before._

_“Harry, fancy a cuppa?” Nick tries to keep his voice casual._

_Now focused on creeping up behind Pig to scoop his bony figure into his arms, Harry distractedly calls back, “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”_

_“Zayn,” Nick grabs Zayn’s wrist and hauls him out of the room, “be a dear and come help me.” Glancing over his shoulder to make sure Pig is thoroughly distracting Harry with his furiously wagging tail, Nick hisses at Zayn, “Did you bring a fucking human into my house?”_

_“He’s not human,” Zayn retorts fiercely. “His mum’s a witch. I met her myself.”_

_“Then why the hell does he look like he’s never seen a necromancer’s dog before?”_

_“Because he hasn’t.” Zayn pulls his hand out of Nick’s grasp. “His mum raised him human because his powers never manifested. Well, not until now. Didn’t even know our world existed until a couple hours ago.”_

_“And you thought the best way to ease him in was to introduce him to Pig?”_

_“No,” Zayn replies patiently. “I’m calling in my favor because I need you to train him.”_

_Nick raises an eyebrow. “Because there’s not dozens of actual licensed magic instructors on the market?”_

_“They won’t take him,” says Zayn stiffly, fidgeting._

_Nick narrows his eyes. Here’s where it’s going to get interesting. Interesting enough for Zayn to pound on his door at an ungodly hour and cash a favor he’s been sitting on for years. “And why not?” Nick has an inkling of a hunch, but he wants to hear Zayn confirm it aloud._

_Zayn presses his lips together. “Because he’s not a full witch.” Nick sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off the impending headache. “His mum’s a witch, but I don’t know what his dad is. Left when Harry was a kid. Maybe some sort of light sprite, best as I can gather.”_

_“Light?” Nick frowns. It’s an unusual element for magic. “What makes you say—”_

_A white flare from the room they left Harry in cuts Nick off. Zayn shrugs like_ I tried to warn you _at Nick’s unamused look. The two return to the living room to find Harry kneeling over a pile of motionless dog bones._

_Harry looks up at their approach and offers a sheepish, “Oops?” A femur drops from his fingers onto the floor._

_Nick sighs. He feels like he’s been doing an awful lot of that lately. “It’s alright, Harry. Not to worry.” He putters around to find the ground up sage leaf poultice he made the other day. He smears some on the forehead of Pig’s skull, mutters the spell under his breath, and leans back to watch as Pig’s bones shiver and tumble back together. A few moments later and Pig is shaking himself out, good as new, and barking reproachfully at Harry._

_When Zayn and Nick make to retreat to the kitchen again, Harry quietly says, “If you’re gonna go talk about me some more, you might as well do it here. It’s rude to talk about someone like they’re not there.” He meets their gazes, chin up defiantly, but his bottom lip quivers._

_Zayn winces. “You’re right. Sorry.”_

_Nick feels chastised as he settles onto his own sofa. He tries to push past his annoyance and impending headache to drum up some sympathy for the poor lad, who’s so obviously out of his depth. “So, not just a half-breed, but an unknown hybrid to boot. No wonder Zayn didn’t just call the Academy.” He’s not sure how successful he is._

_“The what?” Harry tips his head curiously._

_“The Queen’s Academy for Witches,” Nick explains, “it’s where most young witches go to learn once their powers are realized. There’s some small private schools too, but that’s the main one. But they won’t accept half-witches.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Can’t risk mucking up their reputation, can they? It’s public funded, and the government isn’t likely to keep funding it if they think the, ah, quality isn’t what it used to be.” Nick scratches the back of his neck. He knows he sounds harsh, but Harry deserves to know what he’s getting into: a world that hate his guts for the blood that runs through his veins._

_Nick’s gotten himself into a spot of trouble here and there for inviting half-beings onto his radio show. And those were the more well known, more respectable exceptions that have cropped up in the business only in the past couple decades or so. Interviewing Zendaya is worth a couple bad headlines. But an average half-witch-half-something like Harry doesn’t stand a chance, not according to Nick’s calculations._

_“Oh.” Harry’s voice sounds small._

_“Which is why,” Zayn cuts in bracingly, resting a hand on the back of Harry’s neck, “I brought you to Grimmy. He’s going to be your mentor until we get something sorted out. I would myself, but our magic’s too different. Night and day, even.”_

_Harry giggles._

_“That’s right,” Nick claps his hands together with more enthusiasm that he feels. “Starting bright and early tomorrow morning, darling. Well,” he glances at the crystal ball and winces at the early hour it shows, “maybe not too early.”_

_On their way out, Zayn abruptly pulls Nick into a tight hug. “Thank you,” Zayn murmurs into Nick’s shoulder. “I know this is a risk for you. If anyone found out…”_

_“I could lose my job,” Nick agrees cheerfully, ruffling Zayn’s hair just to see him scowl. “Might possibly be run out of town. Which is why mum’s the word, yeah?”_

_Zayn nods._

_“You come from a good family, Zayn,” Nick says as carefully as he can after a moment’s hesitation. “The Malik name is well known. I can take care of the kid if you want, free your hands of this business. The necromancer and the halfling, sounds like the hook the Breakfast Show has been missing.” When Zayn doesn’t so much as crack a smile, Nick firmly adds, “You did good, but you needn’t do more. People will talk, you know.”_

_Zayn’s mouth quirks wryly. “I’m not going to abandon Harry because a bunch of pricks are going to say shit.”_

_“Thought I’d give it a shot,” Nick shrugs._

_“Thanks anyway, mate.” Zayn pulls away. His eyes drift to Harry down the hall, and Nick ponders the fondness etched into Zayn’s soft smile. The smile it took Nick half a year to coax out in earnest, but this stranger seems to have managed in a few measly hours. “Besides, I think there’s something special about Harry.”_

_Nick nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, I think you might be onto something.”_


End file.
